Day breaks upon your expectant face, and the birds sing for you.
A cup of coffee and a table set.
Sunrises, newspapers, the melody of your voice.
I’m lost without your light.
Shadow, little, shy.
They tell me to keep going. Chin up, grow up but I still feel small.
Morning is not as bright. The bird’s song is hollow.
What is coffee if you’re not making it?
Little, shy. Goodbye.
—
And just like that, 4 years pass by?
One Rabbit Riot 